


Tracing your footsteps

by jjjat3am



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-series</p><p>Derek and Jackson used to be best friends before the Hale fire happened. </p><p>Derek comes back to Beacon Hills only to run into the best friend he left behind when he hightailed it out of there with his sister. </p><p>While Laura is busy investigating the fire, Derek finds himself drawn to Jackson, who's grown up from the skinny kid who used to follow him around, but can't quite get up the courage to do anything about it with the ever present guilt hanging over his head.</p><p>Jackson, who has been waiting for Derek to return for years, doesn't quite understand where the bushy-tailed high school Derek went, but he's pretty sure he wants a piece of that ass.</p><p>Taken from a prompt on <a href="http://myteenwolfprompts.tumblr.com/post/48275630524/characters-jackson-whittemore-derek-hale-others">myteenwolfprompts</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracing your footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thank you's to Jesse, ([jessicalynn83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessicalynn83/pseuds/Jessicalynn83)) for all the help, for all the giggles, for tweaking all the stupid paragraphs and for just being you.  
> Thank you to [Kase](http://archiveofourown.org/users/4lw4ys_a_fri3nd_n3v3r_a_l0v3r) for the boost of self-esteem I sorely needed and for humoring me with this.

 

Derek watched the trees pass, emerging and disappearing in the early morning fog, as Laura squinted through the windshield of the Camaro. She turned onto an overgrown country road, the car bouncing over fallen twigs and rocks, leaves brushing against the doors. They stopped in front of an old burnt house. His sister cut the engine, leaving the car in silence.

“Why are we back here? What is even the point?”

Derek had his head deliberately turned away from the house, concentrating on the trees on the other side, where the swing set used to stand. It wasn’t there anymore, not even a trace. Probably someone had stolen it, if not for another child, then for scrap metal at least.

“We’re here because I want to know what happened to our family. I’ve had enough waiting and worrying every day, thinking that they might find us too.” Laura reached to the backseat for her purse, fishing out a moleskin journal. “We got a good tip from the Oregon pack and new info on the ash tracings. It all leads here. I want closure, Derek and I need your support. Now, are you with me or not?”

Derek heaved a deep breath and got out of the car.

Together they examined the entirety of the house, impeded by a stream of memories that threatened to overwhelm them. By the time they were finished, the sun was already high and Laura drove them back towards town.

They passed the high school and the neighborhood where Derek used to go to sleepovers in Junior High. The grocer on the corner had been shut down, a real estate agency replacing it. The café they stopped at for lunch was also new and the siblings sat in silence with their meals, Laura circling apartment and work ads, while Derek watched the people passing by.

“Huh. They’re looking for a teaching assistant for natural sciences at the high school this year. I might apply.”

“You’re planning on staying here for a while then?”

“It’ll bring me closer to Adrian Harris at least. He’s the Chemistry teacher.”

Derek just nodded. His English major allowed him to work from home, editing articles for online publications and while it didn’t exactly bring in that much money, he and Laura had enough left over to lead a comfortable life. Laura’s Biology degree lent her less flexibility, but it was something she loved fiercely, Derek knew. However, the new leads on their family’s fate were apparently even more important than her comfortable research position, leading her to resign and move them to Beacon Hills.

Ruthlessly repressing the impending guilt, Derek concentrated on what Laura was saying. Chances were that after she learnt the truth (and she would), he wouldn’t get many moments like this with her.

 

*

 

They rented a small apartment near the school and their old home. Laura spent most of her days walking around Beacon Hills, following up on leads, leaving Derek alone with his guilt.

After completing all of the work he brought to Beacon Hills with him and after begging his employers for more and getting a polite but firm rejection, Derek picked up his jacket and went out, no set goal in mind.

He ended up on the trail leading around the edge of the forest, used mostly by joggers and the occasional lost drunk. He was walking along, hunched and brooding, when his senses alerted him to an incoming heartbeat. Before he could decide which direction to disappear to, the other human was upon him.

The jogger froze and so did Derek, taking in the other male’s packed abdominals peaking from underneath a too short T-shirt and his handsome face, currently turned into an expression of pure shock.

“Derek?”

Derek frowned, gaze turning to the stranger’s face. On second thought, something about him looked eerily familiar. It’s not until their eyes met and Derek saw a familiar blue that he realized who he was talking to.

“Jackson.”

They stared at each other silently for a while, before Jackson cleared his throat, smoothing his shirt down self-consciously.

“I didn’t know you were back in Beacon Hills. You and Laura left really suddenly after what happened.”

There was a hint of reproach in Jackson’s voice that made Derek immediately go on the defensive.

“There wasn’t exactly much left to stay for, was there?”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Jackson looked away, face coloring and lips pursued and Derek felt the anger drain away. Jackson straightened suddenly, an obviously forced smile on his face.

“Listen I need to finish this run or coach will skin me for skipping on my practice. I’ll see you around, alright?”

Jackson started forward and there was a moment of confusion as Derek tried to step out of his way, only to meet up with Jackson who tried to do the exact same thing and this repeating a few times before they both descended into awkward chuckles.

“After you.”

“Right, thanks. See you.”

Derek watched Jackson’s silhouette disappear among the trees, trying not to linger on the blush and how it made the other boy’s freckles stand out, or on the hopeful note in his voice. Derek couldn’t remember a time when someone other than his sister wanted to see him again. Maybe not since Kate.

And wasn’t that a mood breaker. He turned back to the path and determinately stomped in the opposite direction Jackson took. No use tempting fate.

But Jackson sure grew up well. The gangly middle-schooler that used to follow Derek around like a puppy was no more, leaving in his place a chiseled body and a beautiful face, the only thing connecting him to Derek’s memory a pair of bright blue eyes.

 

*

 

He started running into Jackson everywhere after that.

At the gas station, Jackson filling up the tank of his admittedly impressive Porsche, where Derek was just leaving, bag of M&Ms in tow and Jackson looked at him with such knowing, smirk in place, that Derek was immediately transported back to when they were kids and they used to hang out in his room at the Hale house, when Jackson would always demand the red ones and Derek would complain, but always picked them out anyway. So if maybe Derek was a bit short with present day Jackson, it was only because he’d become really fond of the red ones in Jackson’s absence, even if they turned bitter in his mouth at the memory of how his face had fallen when Derek snapped in return to his greeting.

The problem was that Jackson was too much of everything, too many memories of times where there was no guilt or anger, where Derek’s mom made dinner and Jackson begged his parents to stay over at the Hales for a bit longer and uncle Peter and Derek would take him home afterward, because Jackson was still afraid of the dark, even if he’d never admit it. Jackson was summer holidays in the Whittmore pool, Jackson’s mom bringing them lemonade and popsicles and Jackson always smiling and Derek laughing along, because there was nothing easier. But present day Jackson wasn’t easy anymore.

This Jackson was dangerous.

And he wouldn’t go away. No matter how rude Derek was being, Jackson would always greet him with a smile and a hopeful tint to his voice. By the time Derek ran into him at the grocery store for the umpteenth time, he was sufficiently worn down and actually returned his greeting. Jackson’s smile was blinding.

“So are you staying here for now?”

“Yeah. Laura has been thinking of applying for a teaching position at the high school.”

“Oh cool. I’m a sophomore this year. Only two years to go. You’ve already finished college right?”

Derek was just about to reply, when someone interrupted their conversation. A big, muscled guy with an armful of snack foods was shouting for Jackson.

“Hey Captain! Fancy seeing you here…”

The transformation was instantaneous. Jackson drew himself up to his full height, hips slanting ever so slightly to the right and a sneer pulling the corner of his lips, looking every inch the unapproachable high school jock.

“Greenberg. Breaking the diet I see, coach is going to be so disappointed. I trust you’re compensating for all those Twinkies…” Jackson made a disgusted face “…in your everyday work out. Have you been following that by the way? You look like you’ve gained weight.”

Greenberg made his excuses very quickly after that and drove away in his SUV, Jackson’s parting shot of “We wouldn’t want Stilinski replacing you on the field, would we?”, ringing in his ears. He hadn’t even spared a glance for Derek.

“You love Twinkies.” said Derek, quietly, watching Jackson’s disgruntled expression.

Jackson looked stunned for a moment, before sniffing and looking away.

“They go straight to my hips.”

Derek couldn’t help his gaze flicking down to the aforementioned hips, lingering on how perfectly Jackson’s designer jeans clung to the toned muscle…

“They look fine.” He muttered gruffly, sat in the Camaro and high-tailed it out of there. As a result he missed Jackson’s pleased and considering expression as he leaned up against his Porsche and watched him drive away.

 

*

 

Derek woke up in the middle of the night, chest heaving and shirt clinging to his back, the last vestiges of the nightmare still clinging to his consciousness. It was early enough that, when he looked out the windows to dispel the lingering images, the early morning sunshine was already lightening the skies. Derek listened carefully, noting that Laura was still asleep, judging by her even breaths; that the old woman downstairs had left her TV on and apparently dozed off right after and that the children in the above apartment were enjoying a blessedly alarm clock free sleep. Everything was still, the town still slumbering.

He got up and changed into some sweats and trainers, breaking into a brisk run as soon as he made it out the door. He passed the darkened buildings abnormally quickly, disappearing into the forest. He didn’t follow the path, plunging deeper into the woods, dodging the tree trunks and low hanging branches. He ran blindly, trying to leave the memory of Kate’s touch and the searing smell of gasoline somewhere behind him, but the more he breathed the morning air, the more it tasted of smoke.

Derek didn't see him until they'd nearly collided. He skidded to a stop in front of Jackson before they stumbled into each other. For a moment they stood far too close, catching their breath. Jackson's eyes were wide, Derek had grabbed Jackson's upper-arms to steady himself without thinking, and hadn't yet let go.

Breaking the moment between them, Derek turned away and hastily separated himself from Jackson. Stepping back to put space between them, he looked around to avoid the other man's gaze. It was then that Derek realized he'd run right to the old house; the setting to his nightmare.

“Derek…”

“What are you doing here?”

“I run here every day. Derek, your hands…”

Derek looked down to see a trickle of blood dripping down his clenched fist from where his claws had punctured the skin. Thankfully, they were hidden from Jackson’s view. The last thing Derek needed was inadvertedly showing him that he was a werewolf.

“Hey, let’s get out of here. Come on.”

Derek followed. Jackson didn’t touch him, just set a quick pace and lead them away from the house. Derek could feel Jackson's gaze, but refused to meet his eyes, stare fixed on the ground in front of him, trusting the cadence of Jackson's footsteps to not lead him astray.

An unidentifiable amount of time passed, forest floor exchanged for beat up pavement. When Derek looked up again, the area was familiar.

"This is my stop." his voice sounded strange even to his own ears, muted, as if from very far away.

"This is where you live?" Jackson's voice was neutral as he surveyed the abandoned warehouses and the trash accumulating in the corners. Derek just shrugged.

They stood there in silence.

"Jackson, is that you?”Their staring contest had apparently alerted Laura to their presence and she was now hanging out the second-storey window, waving wildly. “Don't just stand there Derek, invite him up for breakfast!"

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but Laura had already buzzed them in and Jackson was standing at the entrance, door opened, and cocky smirk in place. Derek brushed up against him on his way inside and felt him shiver. Jackson was probably just cold.

"Well, look who grew up nice!” was Laura's comment as she pulled an unresisting Jackson into a hug. Derek felt his hackles rising and a growl forming at the base of his throat, but Laura just grinned impishly at him over Jackson's shoulder.

Breakfast was pancakes and Laura and Jackson chatting animatedly over the dinner table. Derek sat in sullen silence nursing his mug of coffee, ignoring Jackson's furtive glances and attempts to include him in the conversation or Laura's knowing looks.

Jackson left soon after, but not after promising to visit again.

Laura was upon him as soon as the door closed.

"When did you meet Jackson again? You didn't say anything." Derek moved to pick up the plates. "Who would have thought, little Jackson Whittmore, who looked at you as if you’d hung the moon, would grow up so handsome."

"Leave it, Laura. I know what you're trying to do, so you can just stop right there."

"He could be good for you." Derek dumped the mugs in the kitchen sink, where they rattled ominously. "Sure, he's got some self-worth issues, but those abs are a pretty good distraction."

A plate cracked where Derek was gripping it too tightly under the soapy water.

"He's only 16."

"Age is just a number!"

Age is just a number. Kate used to say that to him when they were about to…

The door to his room slammed loudly behind him. He took deep breaths of the air coming through the bedroom window, feeling sick to his stomach. His mouth tasted of ashes.

He didn't come out until after Laura had left.

 

*

 

Derek holed up in his room for the next few days, barely speaking to Laura and never going outside for fear of meeting Jackson. Not that he would admit to brooding. He was simply swamped with work, lots of incredibly important articles about celebrities and time travelling to edit. Really.

Avoiding the world was going great, until one evening when he was concentrating incredibly hard on an article for an insect’s collector’s magazine and the doorbell rang. Derek paid it no mind, Laura would probably get it anyway.

The doorbell kept ringing and Derek realized there hadn’t been another heartbeat around for a while, so Laura must have gone out. Never mind, hopefully if he ignored them for long enough they’d go away.

The person at the door wasn't letting up and after 10 minutes, Derek had had just about enough. He stormed out into the living room, violently grabbing the intercom receiver.

“What!?” he growled.

Silence. He slammed the receiver down. The buzzing started again almost immediately, this time interspersed with knocks on his front door. Derek eyed the door warily. It didn’t have a peephole so he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t some sort of burglar. Then he remembered that, hey, he was a werewolf, he could probably handle anyone on the other end of the door.

Or not.

Jackson breezed past him into the apartment, take-out containers in tow, which he set up on the counter and started rummaging through the kitchen drawers for cutlery.

“How did you get in here?”

“What? Oh, your neighbor let me in. Nice old lady, pretty sure she was carrying a knife.”

“But…”

“You have to give me your number for next time; your doorbell must be broken.”

He settled the containers on the coffee table, forks laid out and started rifling through his messenger bag, pulling out a DVD with a triumphant ‘A-ha!’. He put the movie in the dingy DVD-player and turned to the still dumfounded Derek.

“Well, don’t just stand there! We’re watching Hoosiers. Not only is it the best basketball movie ever, it is the best sports movie ever made!” Derek remained standing at the door, gaping unattractively. “It’s got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper in it. Now come on, do you want the Sweet & sour chicken or the Mongolian beef?”

Derek mutely pointed to the correct container and Jackson’s smirk turned into something more genuine. He settled comfortably onto the broken down couch, leaving space on the other side and turned on the movie. Derek waited a beat before gingerly settling into the empty space, reaching for the food.

Next to him, Jackson suddenly relaxed and popped a spring roll in his mouth. He had been nervous, Derek realized, and not nearly as confident as he seemed. Somehow, that made the tension in his shoulders ease and the silence between them became almost comfortable as they watched the movie.

Jackson started coming over a lot more after that, either in the evenings with take-out and movies or in the afternoons with books or magazines, reclining on Derek’s bed while he worked. They didn’t talk much, settling into a comfortable silence, and it was almost like it used to be when they were much younger and they watched cartoons after school or shot hoops in Jackson’s backyard.

Except they weren’t kids anymore and Jackson was still a teenager. Thought, there were times where Jackson would fall asleep on Derek’s bed, face slack and the column of his throat bared like an offering and Derek couldn’t write a single word, no matter how pressing the deadline. Or sometimes he’d catch Jackson watching him, a strange expression on his face, quickly schooled to indifference when he realized Derek was looking back. Laura’s innuendos didn’t help much to dull the tension, though she left them alone for the most part. She didn’t get the teaching assistant job and was now working at a local bar that Adrian Harris apparently frequented.

Derek figured that the start of the new school year would mean that Jackson wouldn’t be around as much and the thought of it made his stomach clench into knots almost as much as he breathed a sigh of relief. Still, Friday afternoon the doorbell rang like clockwork. Jackson was standing at the threshold soaked through with sweat and looking exhausted.

“I just came from practice, can I use your shower?” he said as he headed past Derek, towards the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Derek cringed at the open concern he could hear in his own voice. Jackson stopped in the middle of the living room, shoulders hunched and his fingers clutching the strap of his sports bag.

“I’ve had a long week.” He sighed. “I made team captain this year.”

“Oh.” said Derek. “Congratulations?”

Jackson whipped around to stare at him, wide-eyed. Then he seemed to change before Derek’s gaze, straightening his shoulders into his nonchalant pose, but the genuine smile on his lips gave him away.

“Thank you.”

Later on, when Jackson was once again spread over his bed, apparently doing his homework and Derek had already spent 10 minutes without writing a word, he finally asked something that had been on his mind ever since Jackson started coming around.

“Jackson…why do you keep coming here? Don’t you have friends to hang out with, parties to attend on Friday night?”

“Danny has a new boyfriend.” Jackson shrugged. “All the other aren’t really worth my time.”

‘And I am?’ Derek wanted to ask, but refrained.

“What about a girlfriend?” slipped out of his mouth instead.

Something in Jackson’s eyes turned predatory and Derek’s gaze was drawn to the muscles he could see beneath his worn T-shirt, up to the exposed curve of his throat and to the positively come-hither look on his face. Derek looked away and when he looked back up again, Jackson was lying on his side, something almost vulnerable in the tense line of his back that sent a hot flash of guilt tearing through Derek’s insides. Why, oh why, was this so complicated?

Jackson’s voice startled him a few moments later, after he had finally managed to focus on the article he was working on.

“Hey, Derek?” Derek grunted his reply. “Next Friday is the first Lacrosse game of the season. Do you…I mean…would you come watch?”

Derek spent a few seconds trying frantically to come up with an excuse, but found none.

“Sure, I guess.”

Jackson nodded and turned back to his textbook, but something in the pleased curve of his smile made warmth uncoil in the hurt places his guilt had left trailing behind it. Derek stood up and ducked out, practically running into the bathroom and spent the next half hour braced over the sink, trying not to hyperventilate, aware what the absence of his guilt might make him do.

 

*

 

Laura didn’t come home on Thursday night. She had been quiet for the last week and Derek had a feeling she was avoiding him. Still, they had dinner together every evening and when she didn’t show, Derek got worried. He tried her cell phone several times, but it rang empty. He went to the bar she worked at, only to learn she hadn’t been there at all in the past week. The Camaro was parked in its garage like normal. Derek slept fitfully that night.

The day of Jackson’s game dawned dry and sunny, and Derek resumed his search after breakfast. By the afternoon he had checked everywhere and had simply resigned to trusting his Alpha, as she had often asked him to. If something had happened to her, his wolf would surely know. Despite his better judgment, he went to Jackson’s game, lurking in the shadows by the bleachers and watching Jackson run.

He would have made a great werewolf, prowling around the field, stealing the ball and tackling his opponents. There was something so predatory in the way he moved and it made the wolf in Derek respond, imagining Jackson by his side on the long full moon hunts, sharing prey, running together, being pack. Jackson excelled in everything; he would probably revel in the challenge of being a werewolf. He would understand what the bite signified, the bonds, the pack and what it meant to Derek. If only…he could ask Laura…

Derek stopped his thoughts abruptly, mind in turmoil. Thoughts like this were what killed Paige, that and Derek’s utter inability to protect people he loved from harm.

Judging by the increased noise from the stands, Jackson must have scored again. A bright poster caught Derek’s eye and he focused closely on the beautiful girl holding it up. Her eyes followed Jackson with laser precision and Derek was so focused on the possessiveness of her gaze that he didn’t notice the game ending. On the field, Jackson was celebrating with his teammates and the people from the stands. The girl walked right up to him, grabbing him into a hug, gazing up at him in adoration, as her perfect hair flipped softly in the cold wind.

Jackson lifted his gaze up from where he was still touching the girl and met Derek’s across the field.

Derek turned and walked away.

 

*

 

There was a knock on the door.

Derek glared at it from where he was seated on the couch, TV on some random made-for-television movie and phone on the coffee table, in case Laura called. The knocking didn’t stop, so Derek reluctantly made his way to the door, opening it to Jackson on the other side. For a moment he was seriously tempted to slam it in his face.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you’d be out, celebrating with your friends.”

Jackson looked startled before his face contorted into an expression of absolute fury. He pushed past Derek forcefully, striding into the living room before turning to face him.

“Has it maybe occurred to you that I’m here because I wanted to see you? Or that I hoped to hear something encouraging from you for once in my life?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend for that kind of thing?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore!”

“Well, you sure looked cozy with her down on that field!”

Jackson’s jaw dropped, as Derek winced and turned his head away, suddenly engrossed by the view of the dumpster on the other side of the street.

“Were you…were you jealous?! Seriously Derek?” Jackson huffed a breath, running his hand through his damp hair. “No, wait. That would actually require you caring, right? Not leaving me without a best friend for years without even a word, or showing any interest in me when you come back.”

“Jackson…”

Derek took a step toward the red-faced teenager, but Jackson shook his head violently, his glare stopping him in his tracks.

“But I’m not good enough for the great Derek Hale, am I? I’ve seen you looking at me. I know that look; people have been looking at me like that for years. I’m everybody’s type, even yours, so why won’t you admit it and just…”

“You’re sixteen!”

“And I’ve been in love with you since I was five!” Jackson shouted. Derek stopped in his tracks, anger draining out of him completely. Jackson continued in a quiet voice, eyes bright. “I was five and you saved my puppy from those boys from 3rd Grade. You smiled and said that everything was going to be okay and it was.”

“You used to joke that Aron liked you better, but I always thought that I was the one who liked you best. I thought I wasn’t just some kid to you, but then you just left and Aron was run over by our neighbor and I was alone.”

Jackson stood, trembling like a leaf, accusation burning in his eyes and Derek could feel himself breaking. He was across the room with the speed of a werewolf, hand coming up to grip the other boy’s forearm almost hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry.” And Jackson sagged, fight running right out of him and his other hand straying to Derek’s and latching on.

He looked up at Derek, eyes bright but not crying, searching for something in his expression. Derek watched him right back, which is why he noticed when his eyes flicked down to his lips.  
He used the hand on Jackson’s arm to tug him forward, crushing their lips together, bringing his other hand to rest possessively on Jackson’s nape.

The kiss almost hurt in its intensity, with the way Jackson kept pressing as if he were about to crawl inside him and Derek bit his bottom lip sharply, causing Jackson to moan. Derek pressed him up against the wall, hands everywhere and mouth latched on to the tempting column of Jackson’s throat.

“Bed. Now.” Jackson panted wetly against his ear and Derek waited for the guilt to come flooding in. It got lost somewhere between the moan Jackson let out when Derek picked him up and the sound of their clothes hitting Derek’s bedroom floor.

 

*

 

When Derek woke up the next morning he knew exactly where he was and what he was doing. Jackson’s warm weight was draped over his side and their skin was sticking together slightly because of the sweat. Derek blinked his eyes open and immediately regretted it when they were assaulted by the bright glare of the sun. He glanced downwards to catch some respite and paused.

Jackson was still asleep. He looked softer in his slumber, eyelashes curling over his sharp cheekbones and a trail of drool in the corner of his mouth, mouth pursued in a pout. His neck was ringed with hickeys and Derek trailed a light hand down his back, encountering the shallow claw marks he left there last night. They were already healing, but Jackson was marked.

His.

The guilt and darkness were already waiting on the edges of his consciousness, stronger than ever, ready to swallow him whole, but here in the burning morning light and with Jackson sleepily curling closer to his chest, they didn’t seem to matter. It was a new day and Jackson loved him and things could only get better.

It was the perfect moment.

 

 

In the living room, a phone rang.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt credit goes to [BdrixHaettC](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BdrixHaettC). Thankyou!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! Come find me on [tumblr](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/), I always want to talk.


End file.
